


His Majesty's Queen

by AshlynCouslandTheirin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Childbirth, Children, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Pregnancy, Romance, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshlynCouslandTheirin/pseuds/AshlynCouslandTheirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short stories revolving around Alistair and the Warden, not told in order. The Warden is Ashlyn Cousland, and these stories assume that they have a happy future. The stories are nauseatingly cute and fluffy. Most will be stories after their marriage, or the Blight at least. Also on FF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alistair leaned against the wooden wall of the kitchens, his eyes trained on the fascinating sight before him and his lips twitching in amusement. Low firelight cast the room in a warm, golden atmosphere, and the glow flickered across the features of said fascinating sight, namely his wife.  
Ashlyn Cousland was the most intimidating woman Alistair had ever met. She had blazed across Ferelden like a wildfire, solving every problem she came across like it was nothing. She had found the years-lost remains of Andraste, and proven to all that the woman had once lived, and burned, for them. She’d chosen the king of Orzammar, saved the Circle of Magi from its destruction, and in a single day raised Redcliffe from its chaos and soon after killed the demon that had caused it all. She’d claimed the title of Queen of Ferelden with full support, and gained the love of her people. She’d taken down a power-crazed general, raised an army, and slain an archdemon, skewering the beast’s head with her blade and a cry of triumph.  
And now, here she stood…making a sandwich.  
A chuckle escaped Alistair, and the Queen glanced up at him from her fixings, puzzled.  
“What’s so funny?” she asked softly, as it was the middle of the night.  
Alistair pushed off the wall and walked over to his wife, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek, making her smile. “I just love you,” he replied.  
She raised a teasing eyebrow. “And you find that amusing, do you?”  
He sputtered for a moment, still his awkward self even a whole year into their marriage. “I – no – that’s not what -”  
Ashlyn started to grin and giggle and he sent her a mock glare. “What I meant, my dear, if you could keep yourself from antagonizing me for a moment…” he paused and waited for her giggling fit to subside. “Was that I love all the different sides to you there are.”  
She tilted her head. “How do you mean?”  
He tangled his fingers with hers. “When we met, you…I remember thinking how sad and soft you seemed. I didn’t know at the time, obviously, what you had just been through…” he squeezed her hand as a shadow of that former darkness flickered in her eyes, remembering her family. “But then we went into the wilds, and you fought like a storm. And later you helped all those people in Lothering so compassionately, and showed the same compassion to me, still getting over Duncan. And the more I got to know you I realized there were so many different parts to you. Sometimes you’re witty and clever, and other times you’re fierce and unyielding. You never give an inch, but you love so passionately.” He raised his other hand to trail his knuckles down her cheek. “There are countless different sides to you, some I’m sure I haven’t even seen yet, but I love every single one. I love every part of you.”  
Tears shined in Ashlyn’s eyes, and she raised her own hand to cover his, now cupping her face. “I love you too, Alistair. I…I have no words for how much. No one has ever said anything so beautiful to me.”  
Before he could reply the clock chimed midnight and they both smiled at the sound. He leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. “Happy anniversary, my love.”  
She rose up on her toes to kiss him, and they wrapped their arms around one another, the sandwich forgotten on the table to be found by the baffled cook the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Alistair fluff, its so much fun. Such a big fluffy teddy bear.  
> Happy reading! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Ashlyn took a difficult breath, the tight pain fading from her back after a moment, and she continued her trek down the hallway. She grumbled to herself about her husband’s overprotective tendencies, thinking he could keep her in one place simply because he commanded it. The Champion of Kirkwall was out there, and there was no way that Ashlyn would miss out on meeting her.  
She entered the foyer just in time to hear Alistair saying, “Swooping is bad.”  
Ashlyn rolled her eyes. He and Teagan had made that joke a hundred times. Nevertheless, it still made her smile a bit, and the smile stayed on her lips as she walked up to her husband’s side, surprising him. Ashlyn, however, was focused on who she assumed must be the Champion, whose eyes had just widened to roughly the size of dinner plates.  
“I know,” Ashlyn said, waving a hand at her protruding stomach. “I’m huge. I feel like I’m gonna pop any second.” She grinned and extended her arm to shake the Champion’s hand. “Hello, Ashlyn Cousland, Queen of Ferelden. It’s an honor to meet you.”  
“The honor is mine, your majesty,” the Champion replied graciously.  
Ashlyn turned to Alistair as he scolded her, “I thought I told you to wait in the room Meredith offered you. You shouldn’t be up and about in your delicate condition.”  
She laid a gentle hand on his cheek. “And since when have I ever done what you told me, my love?” she replied in a falsely sweet tone, then bopped him on the nose lightly with her finger. “And carrying a child doesn’t make me delicate,” she admonished. “Just prone to fits of anger if my husband treats me like an invalid.” As it was, he had tried to get her to stay in Ferelden, saying that the travel would put undue stress on her. Honestly, men could be such nags.  
She turned back to the Champion to ask them to continue their conversation when she suddenly noticed one of the woman’s companions. “Now please – Isabela?”  
The pirate grinned at her. “It’s good to see you too your highness. You’re looking…well,” she eyed the queen’s stomach and Ashlyn laughed.  
“Strangely, that’s all anyone’s been able to say about my looks lately,” she replied, and Isabella chuckled. Ashlyn turned to the Champion once more. “Now, please,” she repeated. “Do continue your conversation, don’t let my presence stop you. Were you speaking of Orlais?”  
Hawke gave a firm nod, and though she spoke to both Ashlyn and Alistair, the queen did not hear, having to focus on getting through another wave of pain twisting around her spine. She hid her clenched fist in the folds of her skirts, and did her best to keep her face normal as her muscles involuntarily tightened. A glance at Isabela, however, told her the woman wasn’t buying it. Her eyebrows had risen and her gaze shot from the queen’s belly to her face in question. Ashlyn nodded but gave her a hard look as well.  
“…but maybe that’s the ex-templar in me talking,” Alistair was saying when Ashlyn tuned back in, the pain having finally receded. Hawke gave a politely amused smile to what ever he had been saying, the conversation coming to a close. However, when the woman opened her mouth to reply, Isabela interrupted.  
“Don’t mean to stop all the pleasantries, but shouldn’t someone be taking care of the woman in labor over there?”  
Ashlyn rolled her eyes as Alistair’s shocked gaze shot to her belly. “I was hoping to keep it quiet until the meeting is over. It’s not like she’s going to pop out right now or anything.”  
Alistair sputtered.  
Hawke, however, was much calmer and said “Would you like me to fetch a healer, your majesty? I have a friend who has delivered a number of babes, and has some…experience with Grey Wardens. I don’t know if that will make the birth any different, but if so, he might be helpful.”  
Ashlyn tilted her head, considering for a moment while Alistair’s hands fluttered uncertainly around her. “Yes, actually, that would be nice. Thank you, Champion.”  
The woman nodded and walked off at a quick clip, waving for her companions to follow her. Isabela shot Ashlyn a thumbs-up before trotting after her. Ashlyn then turned her attention to Teagan, standing beside Alistair, who still seemed shell-shocked. “I think it would be best if we returned to the inn we’re staying at. Nice as the Keep is, I’d rather if my child didn’t spend her first few moments being gawked at by nobles.”  
That spurred the king into action, and he asked Teagan to summon their small number of guards. (He actually snapped at the man, but Teagan understood the sudden pressure his nephew was under, and did not hold it against him.) Once the men had been called forth, Alistair guided Ashlyn out of the Keep with a gentle hand at her back, though his face was clouded with worry. They had been trying for years to have a child, and this pregnancy had been an unexpected – if pleasant – surprise. They had both fretted endlessly over the health of the child, and Ashlyn had almost lost the baby once, surely from the stress.  
Ashlyn trailed a hand over her stomach, remembering all the magic that had been used to save the child, mostly from Wynne, who had rushed to her side instantly when she’d fallen in the Great Hall, in pain. She was eternally grateful to the woman.  
Her gaze returned to Alistair, and she paused in their walk to cup his cheek.  
“Hey,” she said, drawing his gaze. “Don’t worry so much. Our child is strong.” She then grabbed his hand and laid it on her stomach, over their baby. “He will live.”  
His lips twitched. “A few moments ago it was a girl.”  
Ashlyn shrugged. “I’m having a baby. I think I’m allowed to be changeable.”  
He chuckled and pulled her against him, continuing their walk to the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on the baby will be coming soon!  
> Happy reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Ashlyn shifted the placement of her dress, then moved it again, and eventually ended up pulling and tugging at it in a myriad of places. She huffed, forcing her hands down. She was fidgeting.   
It was ridiculous. She had saved an entire country. She had killed an archdemon. She had turned Ferelden upside down and then right again, and done so gladly. Yet now, doing something she had never been so sure of in her life, her bravery abandoned her. She was nervous, and jittery, like a child.  
She reached up to fidget with the neckline of the dress again, and Leliana smacked her hand away, admonishing her with words Ashlyn did not hear. She couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment.  
“Ah, my dear warden, you are a vision.”  
Ashlyn turned at the voice and smiled at the sight of the elf, grinning charmingly at her. “ _Zevran,_ ” she said on a relieved exhale, rushing towards him to clasp his hand. She didn’t care one bit that he’d snuck into the room. She’d half expected it in fact. “Tell me honestly…how is he?”  
“He’s doing splendidly, my dear, no need to fret.”  
Ashlyn narrowed her eyes at him, knowing his tells. “Zevran…”  
“He’s sweating like a pig and atwitter with anticipation.”  
The Warden let out a surprised little chuckle, having a hard time picturing Alistair _‘atwitter.’_  
Zevran grinned and clasped her shoulder. “Don’t worry so, everything will be fine. I’ll be there to catch him if he faints.”  
Ashlyn laughed once more, grateful to her friend for purposely distracting her. The dress felt a bit less constricting and she realized just how tense she was. “Thank you, Zev.”  
He smiled in response and looked up when the door opened and Ashlyn’s brother, Fergus, walked in.  
“Ah, Fergus,” the elf greeted, eyeing him up and down. “You’re looking quite dashing.”  
The elder Cousland’s gaze however, was trained on the bard. “It is a pleasure to see you today, Leliana.”  
She gave him a coy smile and said the same, and Zevran gave a mock sigh, turning around with a shrug. Ashlyn, however, folded her arms and pinned her brother with an annoyed glare. “Hello to you too.”  
He turned to her with a slight start and a sheepish smile. “Ah, sorry. You look lovely, sister. He won’t know what hit him.”  
Ashlyn smiled, forgiving him. “You think so?”  
Fergus nodded. “Absolutely, I -”  
They both looked up when a nearby bell was rung, signaling the time and the beginning of the ceremony.  
Leliana nudged Fergus out of the way and quickly re-adjusted Ashlyn’s dress where she’d picked at it and wished her luck before rushing out through the ornate double doors. Zevran followed close behind with a quick grin in Ashlyn’s direction, which she returned.  
Fergus glanced at his sister once more. “Nervous?” he asked.  
“No, not at all,” Ashlyn replied. Too quickly.  
He raised a disbelieving brow.  
“Okay, yes. I can’t for the life of me figure out why.”  
Fergus smiled at her. “You’re taking a large leap of trust here. Of course it’s frightening.” He squeezed her shoulder when she grimaced, realizing he was right. “But I’ll tell you what, I’ve never seen any two people more right for each other. There’s no reason to be nervous. You two are perfect together.”  
Ashlyn took a steadying breath, the last of her tension leaving at her brother’s reassurance and acceptance. Finally, she gave him a smile, and he offered his arm, which she took. They left through the ornate doors at an easy pace, a bright smile on both of their faces.  
And when Ashlyn saw Alistair’s face at the end of the aisle, she knew Fergus had been right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THE FLUFF OH GOD.**


	4. Chapter 4

Alistair was leafing idly through book in his bedroom, in front of a roaring fire when a sudden shriek from the direction of their bathroom chamber made him snap his head up. “ _Ashlyn,_ ” he gasped in worry, jumping out of his chair to see to his wife. Frightened thoughts spun in his head in a mad rush in that short moment. Had an assassin found their way in? Had she fallen? Hurt herself? Before he could take more than a couple steps however, a sudden blur of red hair rushed at him and nearly toppled him. He caught her with a small grunt and held her when he realized she was shaking. “What happened?” he asked worriedly, trying to bend and see her face. “Are you alright?”  
“ _S-spider!_ ” was her shaky response.  
A couple of moments passed as he processed her response.  
Finally he gently pulled her back to look at her. “A spider?” he asked. She only stared at him with wide eyes and a watery frown. “But…we’ve killed _scores_ of the giant ones. But a small one – wait. It _is_ a small one right?” He absently wondered where his sword was, trying to figure out how in the world a giant spider had gotten in.  
“Yes, yes, a small one. I mean not _small,_ but not giant it was just…I…I _hate_ spiders!” she cried, hiding her face in his chest again.  
A sort of half snort and half laugh escaped him. “Like I said though, we’ve killed so many giant spiders! Why would a little one frighten you so much?”  
She pulled her head back quickly enough to startle him a little. “The big ones can’t hide! I mean, you _can’t_ miss a giant damn spider. They’re _huge._ But the little ones can hide, and wait, and ambush you with their creepy little legs!”  
By this time she had her hands in front of her, making what he assumed was a creepy-crawly gesture, which consisted of her wiggling her curled fingers quickly. Alistair pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Ashlyn’s eyes narrowed and she lifted a finger to bop him on the nose. “Don’t laugh! They’re monsters!”  
“Even the little ones?” he asked, grinning.  
She scowled. “Yes. Even the little ones.” Then she gave a slight pout. “Get rid of it? Please?”  
He chuckled. “Yes, of course, my dear. Shall I grab my sword?”  
She huffed and gave him a mock punch to the arm. “Just…just get it _out._ ”  
He laughed lightly again and kissed her forehead, before moving to their bathroom chamber. “Where was it, love?” he called back to her.  
“In the tub!” she replied, and he looked back when he noticed her voice was closer. She was peering around the doorway, and her face was comically concerned. He managed to hold back another laugh.  
However, when Alistair looked in the tub the spider was missing, and a search through the remainder of the room did not turn reveal it.  
Neither of them slept that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry these are so short. :/ Hopefully the fact that there are so many makes up for it?
> 
> Happy reading! :)


	5. Chapter 5

An eight-year-old with a mane of red curls in a wild mass around her head huffed irritably as she knelt in the pews of the monastery. Her mother shushed her gently without opening her eyes, also knelt in prayer. Ashlyn leaned back to look around Eleanor to her father, hoping dubiously that maybe he was done praying. He was not.  
She sighed quieter, glancing to her mother to make sure she hadn’t heard. The family was on their way to Redcliffe to visit the arl, as Ashlyn’s mother had decided it was time to introduce her to noble society and try to get her daughter more interested in acting like what she considered to be a ‘proper lady.’  
Ashlyn was having none of it.  
They had stopped at the monastery when they had decided to rest and graze the horses, and as Ashlyn was also not religious enough for either of her parents’ taste, they had decided to bring her in to pray, hoping it would spark something. The girl glanced at both of her parents again and then to the open end of the pew on her other side. Slowly, and as carefully as possible, she crept away and out of the pew, before rushing off on silent feet through a hallway. She hid in corners when a couple of the sisters walked by, but for the most part was not disturbed.  
She finally stopped when she came to a small room with a statue of Andraste in the center. What fascinated her however, was the stained glass window on the side wall, which was being hit by the light at a perfect angle. Colors painted the floor in geometric patterns, and Ashlyn stuck her arm out to watch them dance across her skin as she twisted it. She didn’t step into it however, feeling too gloomy and annoyed to do so.  
A little sniff escaped her. She didn’t understand why her mother suddenly wanted her to act like a lady. For the most part, she always seemed so happy that Ashlyn was her own person. But then, a few weeks ago, Eleanor had made a remark about how fast her daughter was growing up, and then her smile had faded and a faraway look had crossed her face. Before she knew it they were traveling all over Ferelden, her mother was grilling her in proper etiquette, and she felt like she had met a hundred different nobles, most with children her age. A lot of them were boys in fact. Thankfully though, she remembered Arl Eamon had no children, so she wouldn’t be required to pretend she wanted to play with them. Her parents kept speaking in excited – and maybe slightly concerned – whispers about their trip to Denerim, only telling her that it would be the most important part of their trip whenever she asked about it.  
She sniffed again and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her new dress. This was the worst trip _ever._  
“Um…hello?”  
The girl spun around with a little gasp, moving backwards, coincidentally into the light of the stained glass window. A sandy haired boy, perhaps a year or two older than her, was standing in the open doorway holding a broom, looking as startled as she was to see her there.  
“Sorry, sorry!” he said in a rush, reaching out a hand as though to steady her, but she was too far away, and he dropped it to his side. “Uh…are you okay?” he asked when silence reigned for a moment.  
She sniffed and glanced away, scratching the tip of her nose with her pinky finger. She then heard a rustle of cloth and looked back up to see the boy holding out a handkerchief. She blinked at it. “Um, here,” he said awkwardly, and then continued when she only stared for another moment. “My um…well, my uncle, I guess, told me you should give one to girls when they’re crying.” It was a statement, but he said it like a question, obviously unsure of himself but wanting to help.  
Ashlyn remembered her manners and gently took with a murmured thank you, patting her eyes with it. She recalled her mother telling her about this situation as well, and that she wasn’t supposed to blow her nose in to it. She considered doing so anyway, just to spite her, but the boy seemed nice, much more so than the ones she had met lately, and decided against it.  
She handed it back with a little smile that he returned, putting the handkerchief in his pocket. “I uh, don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” he said curiously.  
“My family stopped her to rest the horses,” she explained, and he smiled a little wider to hear her finally speak. “Mother wants me to start meeting nobles so we’ve been going all over…” she huffed once more, crossing her arms. “And now I have to follow all these _rules_ and its weird, and…I just hate it.”  
The boy grimaced. “I know how you feel,” he replied. “It wasn’t really my choice to come here either.”  
They both stood in mutual annoyance for a moment before Ashlyn once again noticed the light dancing on the ground and turned to look at the stained glass window, seeing the actual picture for the first time.  
“Who is that?” she asked, pointing to the woman depicted in it.  
“That’s Andraste,” the boy replied, moving to stand closer. “The bride of the Maker.”  
“Oh,” Ashlyn replied. “Mother told me about her. She led the war against the Imperium, right?” That had been the only interesting part of the story in her opinion.  
“Yes, she did. This room is dedicated to her.” A quick glance around showed this to be true.  
Ashlyn gave a pouty scowl at the window and muttered “I bet _she_ didn’t have to act like a lady all the time.”  
The boy chuckled and she looked at him and grinned, and pretty soon they were laughing loudly together.  
“ _There,_ you are!” the worried voice of Ashlyn’s mother called into the room, followed by the woman herself. The little girl stiffened, expecting Eleanor to be furious with her, but her mother only knelt and hugged her tightly. “I was so worried about you!”  
Ashlyn didn’t move for a moment, but then hugged her mother back fiercely, wanting to cry again and not entirely sure why. When they finally broke apart she noticed her father had followed them in and she hugged him too.  
“Dear, we have company,” Eleanor said when her husband rose up. He turned to see the boy that Ashlyn had been talking to.  
“Oh, hello there, lad,” Bryce said with an easy grin, gently clasping his the little girl’s shoulder. “Have you been taking care of our daughter for us?”  
“Uh, yes, ser,” the boy said uncertainly.  
“Well, I owe you thanks then,” he said, and reached his hand out to shake the blonde’s, and he hastily reached up to return the gesture.  
“You’re welcome, ser,” he said, still awkward.  
“I believe the driver said we were ready to go,” Eleanor said after offering the young man a smile. “We should go tell them we’ve found our daughter.”  
“I agree,” Bryce replied, gently nudging the girl ahead of him. “Come along, pup.”  
Ashlyn turned to give the boy a smile and a wave, which he shyly returned.  
“I’m glad your safe, my dear,” Eleanor said after a step or two. “But please don’t do that again. At least you weren’t alone.”  
“Yes, who was that boy, pup?” Bryce asked. “Perhaps you can send him a letter to thank him when we reach Redcliffe.”  
“Yes I think I – oh!” Ashlyn paused in her steps. “I never asked his name!”  
They turned to look for the boy, but he had already left. A return to the room with the statue showed he was not there either.  
“I wish we could stay and look for him, my dear,” Eleanor said apologetically. “But we really must be leaving if we want to reach Redcliffe before nightfall.”  
The girl protested to no avail, and was finally ushered dejectedly out of the monastery. She took one glance back, wondering if she’d ever meet the sandy-haired boy again.

 

Alistair sighed in both relief and annoyance as the mage left to see the Revered Mother, shoving his way past a woman that Alistair only just noticed. Rather than introducing himself, he said sarcastically “You know, one good think about the Blight is how it brings people together.” Maybe it was rude not to offer his name, but he was still irritate with the unreasonable man and wasn’t feeling particularly polite.  
The redhead gave a light snort, though she didn’t smile. “I guess I see what you mean.”  
“It’s like a party! We could all…stand together and hold hands! _That_ would give the darkspawn something to think about.” She raised an eyebrow, not replying. Something was very familiar about her… “Wait, we haven’t met have we?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you happen to be another mage?”  
“Am I wearing robes or wielding a staff?” she asked dryly.  
“You never know, these mages sneak up on you,” he chuckled, hoping to gain her amusement as well. He did not succeed.  
He suddenly remembered the message Duncan had sent about his new recruit. He had mentioned he would send her to him, and that she would be easy to spot, as her hair was a very bright shade of red. _That_ must be why she was familiar. “Wait, I _do_ know who you are. You’re Duncan’s new recruit! From Highever, I should have recognized you right away, I apologize.”  
“No harm done,” she said, not meeting his eyes. He didn’t think she was really listening. He mentioned that he would be accompanying her to prepare for the Joining and she seemed to come back to herself.  
“A pleasure to meet you,” she said, in the automatic, almost too quick way most nobles did. “My name is Ashlyn.”  
He recognized the name from Duncan’s message, but there was still something about her that he could swear he _almost_ remembered. He made some quip about there not being many women in the Grey Wardens, still hoping to amuse her, and again failing. However, when he asked her if she’d ever fought darkspawn, she scratched the tip of her nose with her pinky finger before replying that she had not. The gesture was maddeningly familiar and he racked his brain trying to figure out where he’d seen it before. It wasn’t until they were walking back to Duncan that the memory struck him.  
The _girl!_ From the monastery! He’d only been there a few months when she and her family had visited. She’d done the same thing, scratching her nose with her pinky, a gesture he’d never seen from anyone else. But…this _couldn’t_ be her. She was the right age he supposed, but the girl had had freckles all over her face, and her red curls had been sun-streaked. This woman’s – Ashlyn’s – were a dark, smooth red, in big soft curls, rather than the wild mass that had haloed the little girl’s head. And he’d been able to make her laugh easily then, even though she was upset.  
This woman had…sadness in her eyes. Something was a touch broken. The little red head had had wide, bright, curious eyes.  
No, it couldn’t be her. Not that that meant he disliked her. Despite her sadness, she seemed determined and Duncan had assured him of her skill. He was looking forward to knowing her.

 

Weeks later, Alistair _did_ finally make her laugh, saying that he’d been raised by dogs, and her smile was so like the girl’s from the monastery he began to wonder if maybe she really was the same person. He made a note to ask her.

It wasn’t until after they were married, nearly two years later, that they realized they had met all those years ago, under the light of a stained-glass window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, and thank you for reading! You are all fantastic!
> 
> Happy reading! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Alistair woke with a start, the roar of the dragon still echoing in his mind. _Just a nightmare,_ he thought to himself, releasing a long exhale and sinking deeper into the chair. When the final remnants of adrenaline finally wore off and his skin stopped tingling, he looked down to his chest and the woman lying against it.  
His wife lay limp in front of him, her breathing even and slow. The book they’d been reading together lay in her lap, still open under her fingers. He continued glancing around, the dim fire casting the room in a warm, if soft, light. Camelot, Ashlyn’s mabari, lay at her feet. On them actually. She complained of cold toes often, and Camelot was happy to warm them for her.  
Alistair tightened his arms around her, being careful not to wake her, and brushed his fingers against her protruding stomach. Their baby had been growing in her belly for nearly five months and while he was excited, he also…  
A sigh escaped him. The entire pregnancy had been nothing but stress for both of them in his opinion. Her being pregnant at all had been a shock. He didn’t understand why all of the sudden things had changed. For years they had tried, but had eventually come to accept that they would probably never be blessed with a child. Just one more sacrifice for they Grey Wardens.  
And then there was what had happened a couple of weeks ago. They had been in the Great Hall, waiting to meet with a local noble for an audience, and Ashlyn had suddenly fallen, crying out in pain. Alistair had snapped at a nearby guard to fetch Wynne, who had luckily been close, and the woman had managed to save the baby, though she had been exhausted from her efforts afterwards. Ashlyn had insisted ever since that the rest of her pregnancy be a relaxed experience, that Alistair stop stressing and that neither of them were bothered with small problems until after the baby was born. Big issues, of course, they could not ignore, but she was adamant that her child be given its best chance, and for the most part, the castle staff seemed to agree (even if foreign dignitaries didn’t.)  
He sighed again, running his fingers gently along her stomach with a frown. He wasn’t sure that he could stay relaxed for her. Even if it was what was best for the baby all he could see was the problems they had had, his wife’s degraded health, and –  
A sudden flutter beneath his fingers made him freeze.  
He didn’t move for many long moments, and enough time went by that he began to think he had imagined the little whispering movement. But just as he was about to move his hand, he felt a sure _thump_ against his fingertips and a small gasp left him. His baby was kicking.  
He pressed gently against the spot, watching his wife’s face carefully for signs of waking, and smiled when the baby kicked again, as though trying to push his fingers away for intruding. When the movement stopped, he laid his palm flat against her belly and let his head rest back against the chair.  
Just like that…his stress over the pregnancy was lessened. He couldn’t say gone. It wasn’t in him not to worry for his family…but that was just the thing. He had a family. A wife, and now a child. It was just suddenly hitting him at once, that he had something he’d wanted his entire life, even if he hadn’t entirely realized it.  
His child was going to grow up _knowing_ its parents, knowing that its family loved him…or her. It would never have to wonder if he and Ashlyn cared, because he would be sure to tell him all the time, and how proud he was. He smiled again. The child wasn’t even born yet, but somehow, he _was_ proud. That his child was strong enough to live, that he or she had beaten the odds. He wrapped his arms tighter around his wife, a rush of love washing over him.  
Ashlyn finally stirred, her first response being to move her arms to squeeze his, unable to properly hug him. Her eyes blinked open and she turned to gaze sleepily at him, and he grinned at her. “Welcome back, my dear,” he whispered quietly, giving her a soft kiss.  
She stretched with a little yawn, and said “Maybe we should go to bed. I’m still tired,” she scratched the tip of her nose with her pinky finger, a habit that forever made him smile. “I’m always tired these days.”  
“Perhaps you’re right. You need the rest,” he said as she stood. Camelot with a little shake and yawn of his own, snorting at the disturbance. When Ashlyn moved to walk to the bed he grabbed her wrist, gently pulling her back to stand in front of him. He kissed her stomach and laid his head against it, listening though there was nothing to hear at the moment.  
Ashlyn smiled, cupping his cheek and gazing down at him, happy, if puzzled. “What’s this all of the sudden?” she asked.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For…panicking so much lately. I’m sure I’ve only caused you more stress, and that is wrong of me. I love you, and our baby, and I promise I’m going to do my best to make this easier on you from now on. You’re not alone in this, Ashlyn.”  
Her eyes were watery as he stood, and she leaned up for a kiss, which he returned, before guiding them to bed for the first fully restful sleep in months.  
His nightmares did not return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It got a little confusing trying to make sure this worked with the other baby chapter. XD But I think I managed!  
> Please leave a review if you enjoyed!   
> Happy reading! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Ashlyn sat on the large, overstuffed sofa in the sitting room, gazing at the fire without really seeing it. Her mind was far away, frustration and depression making her listless. There was only a couple of days left until the Landsmeet, and a matter that she and Alistair had been purposely avoiding speaking of was now weighing heavily on her mind.  
They’d decided he was going to be king after all, even if he didn’t entirely like the idea. Ferelden was going to need help rebuilding after the Blight, and while Anora was a decent queen, neither Ashlyn nor Eamon thought she would be what the people needed. Power corrupted, and though she may not be driven mad by it as her father clearly was, she still had the desperation that came with it, and in times of need, that could only cause more trouble.  
The problem Ashlyn and Alistair in particular had, was where their relationship was going to go after this.  
Assuming they won, what would happen? Alistair would be king and she…well, even if she didn’t die in this war, he couldn’t keep a secret relationship with her, if he even wanted to do something like that. In the chaos after the Blight all eyes would be on him, and he had to prove himself a good leader. There would be plenty of people all to ready to tear him down, and Ashlyn wouldn’t allow that to happen. Her eyes closed as a horrible truth began to dawn on her. Not only would there relationship have to end, but with the icon she had quickly become to the people, she would more than likely be required at court to help with the rebuilding of Ferelden. And even if she couldn’t be _with_ Alistair, she _would_ keep him protected.  
She opened her eyes again as she heard footsteps approach, and turned to see Cara, an elven servant walk into the room. She held a steaming mug and handed it to Ashlyn wordlessly, a kind smile on her face.  
Ashlyn returned the smile, giving her a soft “thank you.” The woman left the room as Ashlyn sipped at the tea, grateful to the elf. She’d been quite helpful to their entire party since they had arrived, and didn’t have the scowl a lot of servants did here. Not that she particularly blamed them; as far as she could see they weren’t treated very well. Still, if she were queen, she would probably ask Cara to be her lady in –  
Ashlyn sat straight up, her tea sloshing over the edge of the mug. Once again her eyes stared straight into the fires without seeing anything, but with a shell-shocked expression now. Somehow, she had never considered this option before. It wasn’t until she had thought about it like this, the words put together in a sentence, that she realized there was another path in front of her.  
She was from a noble family. They were second to no one but royalty for the love of the Maker. She….she could be Queen.  
Sure, if they weren’t in the middle of a Blight, if Alistair were already King, things would be done differently. They’d have had a proper courtship, with chaperones and specified meetings…but things weren’t exactly perfect, were they?  
A small, snorting laugh escaped as she remembered she and Alistair’s conversation about the perfect time and place. He’d been right. If things were perfect they’d never have even met…She needed to take this chance.  
Moments later she was rushing down the corridor, zipping into the ex-templar’s room. “Alistair, I…” she began, but he wasn’t in the room. With a huff of annoyance she turned around to go searching for him only to run right into his chest.  
“Whoa!” he said, grabbing her arms to steady her. She rubbed her nose where she’d hit it and he gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”  
“Looking for you!” she exclaimed, and gripped his hands with her own. “There’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s…kind of big. Really big. And maybe not something you’d want, I don’t know, and I know its super fast, but its really the only way this can keep going on, and with enough support we could pull it off, and I don’t think -”  
“Slow down, slow down!” he said with a nervous laugh. He then pulled her over to a chair. “Here, sit down. Now…what’s going on?”  
She took a steadying breath, and he held her hand to comfort her. “Okay, I…Look, we’ve both been avoiding talking about us. About what happens after the Landsmeet.” He looked down and away, confirming her statement wordlessly. “I know it’s uncomfortable to think about, and I know you still don’t like the idea of being king, but I think I have a solution.” He glanced back up now, with that hopeful puppy dog face that always gave the urge to squeeze him tight. He’d scowled when she told him that, proclaiming that he did _not_ make a puppy dog face, and she’d pinched his cheek just to annoy him.  
Ashlyn shook the thought away, aware she was attempting to distract herself from the stressful conversation. “You know about my family, the Couslands. We...they were of a very high class…” she sighed. “I’m not wording this well, I know.”  
He squeezed her hand. “It’s alright, my dear. Go on.”  
She gave him a brief smile. “A long time ago my parents took me on a trip, introducing me into the nobility officially. Part of that was having me meet young boys my age, in the hopes that I would get on well with one of them and they could…arrange a betrothal.” She grimaced at the memory a bit, even though she knew they had been doing what they thought was best. “The last place we visited was Denerim, where I met Cailan. Now, he pulled on my curls and I bruised his shin, but if things had gone well, I…might have been queen.” She took a deep breath, unable to look at him now. “If you and I were to marry, I still could be. Like I said, I know this is fast, but it’s the only way we can stay together, and we both know we want a future together, and I think we would both make good – mmph!”  
Ashlyn was cut off by Alistiar grasping the back of her neck and pulling her forward into a kiss. She was too stunned to respond to the brief touch of his lips, and stared at him for a moment when he leaned away with a wide smile.  
She blinked once and then said with a little grin “So should I take that as a yes?”  
He chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t the way I planned on us getting married but…I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I would have asked you eventually.”  
Her smile brightened. “Really?”  
He pulled her in close for a hug. “Absolutely.” They sat embracing in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he continued. “You know…this actually really helps.”  
Ashlyn pulled back slightly to look at him. “What do you mean?”  
“Knowing you’re going to be in this with me makes it a lot less frightening somehow,” he said, seeming a little embarrassed. “Plus you’re more experienced with nobility than I am, and it will be nice to have someone around who’s not leaving everything up to me.”  
She smiled again and reached up to stroke his cheek. “I’ll always be right here to help you. And I know you’ll make a great king.”  
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before leaning his own against it. “There is one problem.”  
“Oh?” she asked. “What’s that?”  
“Should we tell Arl Eamon?”  
This made her frown. It was a good question. In all likelihood, he wouldn’t approve. There was a chance that they announcing their engagement at the Landsmeet could hurt their chances, and that Loghain would be left with the power. On the other hand, Ashlyn and various members of their group had been running around Denerim winning the support of many nobles and their families, and now there was this business with the alienage. Depending on how that went – and what exactly was even happening – they could possibly have more dirt on Loghain. Of course, Anora didn’t exactly like Ashlyn, based on their conversation about her feelings for Alistair, so they might be being thrown to the wolves.  
She sighed and rubbed her forehead, a headache coming on. “If you ask me, we should tell him. It will be better to go in there knowing as much as we can, even if that means we know he doesn’t approve. I’d rather he knows ahead of time, rather than getting a shock in the middle of the Landsmeet.”  
Alistair took her hand again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Well then…we’d best get it over with. Time to face the music.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who've left kudos! You're amazing!
> 
> Happy reading! :)


	8. Chapter 8

“This is _fantastic_ news!” Arl Eamon was beaming, as he had been from the moment Ashlyn and Alistair had hesitantly announced their engagement to him and Bann Teagan in the small study he’d been offered during their stay. They had been pleasantly surprised by his reaction until he began to explain exactly why he was so elated. “The last Theirin marrying the Warden, the hope for Ferelden! This will make our petition at the Landsmeet that much simpler, and this way we won’t have to worry about finding you a wife so you can produce an heir. I only wish I’d thought of it myself!”  
He continued babbling on as the two wardens glanced at each other, unsure of whether they should be surprised or annoyed. Or both.  
“Well,” the arl was saying, the excitement in his voice fading somewhat. “This certainly changes things. I wish we’d planned this sooner - we have that much more to work on – but it is fantastic, nonetheless. I suggest we all get some rest. You’ll be visiting the alienage tomorrow as I understand it, Lady Cousland?”  
“Yes, my lord,” she replied, careful not to allow her offense to show. “I’ll be sure to report our findings to you as soon as we return.”  
“Excellent. In that case I believe I shall retire for the evening. Good night to you all.”  
Once the arl had left the room, Tegan sighed, apparently as exasperated with his brother as the two of them were. “I apologize for that. He means well, but you both know how impossible our situation seems.” Ashlyn nodded, understanding, though Alistair only gave a noncommittal hum. Teagan stepped forward shake his hand. “Congratulations, both of you. I mean it.” He then reached to kiss Ashlen’s knuckles, which she accepted with a smile, before stepping back. “He was right, however, tomorrow will likely be a long day. We should all rest. Good evening.” He was nearly to the door when he paused and turned to say “Oh, Alistair, would you mind coming to see me before you leave in the morning?”  
“Of course,” he responded with a nod. With that, the Bann bid them both a final good night and left the study.  
Ashlyn sighed and leaned against the desk in the center of the room, her strength leaving her. “That went…well, I suppose.”  
“It did. Not the way I expected. Still, I suppose we should be glad he was so happy rather than standing against us,” he said, leaning against the desk as well and tangling his fingers with hers.  
“Yes. It’s just…” she paused, attempting to gather her thoughts. “Do you think everyone is going to react that way? That they’ll assume we’re marrying as a…a political move?” she gazed up at him, brow furrowed. “I know it shouldn’t matter – we know we’re marrying for love, and it _does_ work politically, which is helpful, but it just seems so…cold.”  
Alistair pulled his hand away and wrapped his arm around her instead, tucking her head under his chin. “There’s always going to be people who assumed that’s why we did this, which is something we’re just going to have to learn to live with. But we and our friends all know that we’re in love, and that’s what’s important. And I’m sure others will begin to see it too, even if they don’t at first. According to Morrigan, its impossible to ignore our ‘disgusting cooing,’ as she so lovingly puts it, after all.”  
Ashlyn chuckled, returning his embrace, and felt some of her annoyance leave her. “At least Teagan was kind about it. I’m glad he approves.”  
“As do I.”  
They were both silent for a few long minutes and Ashlyn only forced herself to move when she realized she was beginning to fall asleep against Alistair’s chest. She laughed a little at herself before nudging him. “We should get some sleep. It’s been a long, and kind of emotional day.”  
He snorted, the puff of air making her hair rustle a bit. “Kind of?”  
She smiled a little and pulled away. “Okay, understatement. The point is, I’m dead on my feet and you look as tired as you were after Ostagar.”  
He nodded sleepily and allowed her to drag him out of the room. When they reached the hallway each of their rooms were in however, she bit her lip, slowing. They’d been given separate rooms, obviously, as it would be inappropriate to share, despite their relationship. However, due to the decision made today, and the emotional stress of said decision – and if she was being honest, the emotional stress of the entire Landsmeet – she found she missed the comfort of falling asleep beside him, and the thought of going to bed alone was unappealing. She finally paused in her steps and turned to face him.  
“Um…do you think maybe…we could stay together tonight? I mean, I know one of us will have to sneak out of the room pretty early so the servants don’t talk, but…” she glanced away shyly. “I’d rather not be alone tonight.”  
Alistair smiled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Your desire is my command, love.”  
She grinned, and they retired to his room, their sleep uninhibited by nightmares when in each other’s arms.

Months later, Ashlyn sat in the same sitting room, once again gazing at a roaring fire, but this time with a light smile on her face. She ran her fingers lightly over the ring that Alistair had given her, a gift from Teagan. It was apparently a family heirloom, and one he decided to give to his nephew, as he was unmarried. It was simple but elegant, two small rubies on either side of the square cut diamond.  
The wedding was tomorrow, and for the past two weeks the entire castle had been in a frenzy with preparations and guests arriving, and she had come here for a moment of peace. It had been nice to see Fergus again, however. She had travelled with him to their home – well, her former home – soon after the Blight, and kicked out what few of Howe’s men had been stupid enough to remain. Afterwards, however, she’d immediately returned to Court, only to be promoted to Warden-Commander and head for Weisshaupt. Finally, she’d come back again, ready to have some alone time with her fiancé…and then she had received word of Morrigan’s whereabouts.  
Ashlyn gently touched the pouch hidden under her tunic. Tonight, she would hide it in a box in her closet to be used…someday.  
She looked up as she heard a quiet knock at the open door. Leliana stood there with a smile. “Trying to escape already?”  
Ashlyn chuckled. “Just enjoying some peace and quiet. Is something the matter?”  
“I was just hoping we could have you try on your dress once more, to be sure nothing is amiss. And maybe we can talk about how we’ll style your hair.”  
Ashlyn gave her a teasing grin. “And I suppose you’ll have me try on, oh, a few hundred pairs of shoes?”  
Leliana snorted, though she wore a smile as well. “Of course not,” she said, gesturing for Ashlyn to follow. They fell into step in the hallway. “I was thinking a couple thousand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I write something super fluffy and cute I feel like there is someone laughing over my shoulder. :(  
> Thanks for all the support! You guys rock!
> 
> Happy reading! :)


	9. Chapter 9

Ashlyn wandered the halls of the castle, glad to finally be back in Denerim. _Back home,_ she reminded herself. It was still an odd concept.  
She had returned from Weisshaupt only yesterday, and had never been more happy to get some relaxation time. Throughout her childhood and teenage years, Ashlyn had always harbored a craving for adventure and excitement, and was rarely seen sitting down. She’d constantly been out in the training yards with her father’s soldiers, honing her skills. In fact, it was her ‘unladylike pursuits’ that had scared off most, if not all, of her suitors.  
The woman gave a little amused smile. She’d been so against marrying anyone only a couple of years ago, and now her wedding was only weeks away, and she was terribly excited. Alistair was different from any other nobleman she had met – presumably because he _wasn’t_ a nobleman. He didn’t have the sense of entitlement most did – a fault she knew she bore at times – and had a natural want to help others. Never once had he seen her as an object, a pretty thing to wear on his arm, or a ticket to higher society. He loved her for who she was, and the thought alone made her heart sing.  
_Maker,_ she thought to herself with a depreciating sigh. _I’ve turned into a love struck young fool._ Then again, perhaps all people who fell in love turned into such.  
The only real problem she’d had since returning home was that she hadn’t gotten any time alone with her husband-to-be and had no idea when she might. He was far too busy dealing with various official matters due to the Blight and the civil war having just ended, and she had immediately found herself buried in preparations for the wedding. In fact, she was out here in the halls specifically to avoid Leliana and her insistence on making her try on a hundred different dresses. And Maker, the _shoes._ Ashlyn liked shoes as much as the next woman, but –  
A sudden hand grabbing her wrist and yanking her into an alcove had her yelping in surprise, but the sound was cut off by another hand covering her mouth. One arm went about her waist, dragging her deeper into the shadows, and she snapped into defensive mode. A swift bite was delivered to the palm over her mouth, followed by a deep grunt of pain, and when the arm around her loosened she dropped her weight, surprising her captor and making him stumble. She was about to go down on a knee and pull him over her shoulder in his unbalanced state when she heard a voice say “Ash, it’s _me!_ ”  
Ashlyn whipped her head around to see Alistair looking at her with an abashed and somewhat fearful expression.  
The adrenaline dropped out of Ashlyn in a rush, leaving her feet tingling as it always seemed to. “ _Maker’s breath, Alistair!_ I could have killed you!”  
“In retrospect, that…probably wasn’t the best idea,” he agreed reluctantly, rubbing his hand with a wince. Guilt immediately overcoming her, Ashlyn gently took his injured hand and pressed a kiss to the bite, giving him an apologetic look. Alistair smiled at the action.  
“Why did you drag me in here, anyway?” Ashlyn asked with a tilt of her head.  
“ _Well,_ ” Alistair began in a raunchy tone she knew too well. “Since we haven’t gotten any alone time yet…” he stepped into her personal space, making her back into the wall. He then placed his hands on either side of her head. “And since I haven’t seen you in _so_ long…”  
By this time Ashlyn was grinning, trying desperately to hold back girlish giggles. It was not going well. Alistair had an almost vulgar smile of his own, and was leaning in tortuously slow. With a snort and roll of her eyes, Ashlyn gripped the front of his tunic and pulled him down to kiss her. She could feel him smiling against her lips as he pressed little butterfly kisses to them, and she was chortling when he went to kiss her neck instead.  
“You, know, someone could see us any second now,” she laughed.  
“Nonsense, no one’s even in this part of the castle except us,” he muttered happily against her throat, and then looked up when she gave an almost shrieking giggle. “What?”  
“Your beard just tickled me is all,” she replied, trying half-heartedly to push him away.  
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” With that he went right back to kissing her neck, being absolutely sure to let his stubble brush against her skin, making her wiggle in his arms, trying to stifle her laughter. A smack was delivered to his shoulder that he completely ignored, trailing his way to the other side of her neck. He then surprised her, biting down on a spot he knew she adored, and a little gasp escaped her as she arched into him. Her fingers clutched his shoulders, and deciding he wasn’t quite done torturing her, Alistair started tickling her ribs as well.  
This time she couldn’t hold back the small shriek and she squirmed in a frantic attempt to get away. She finally managed to push him away only when he let her, a grin still on his lips.  
“You _beast!_ ” she scolded breathlessly, though her eyes danced.  
“Yep, I’m a bad man,” he agreed with a completely unapologetic grin. He leaned back down to plant a chaste kiss on her mouth. “I am sorry my dear, I just wanted to see you while I had a few moments to myself. Unfortunately I do have to get back to work. There’s a lot of work on my end too with the wedding so soon.”  
“It’s alright,” she said, reaching to embrace him. She laid her head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her, listening to his heartbeat. “I have a lot to do as well. I was just trying to escape Leliana.”  
He chuckled. “With as crafty as that woman is, she probably knows exactly where you are.”  
Ashlyn snorted. “Probably. Maker, I hope she didn’t see this.”  
Alistair smiled and kissed her forehead. “You’d best get used to it.”  
She frowned as he pulled away, gently leading her by the hand out of the alcove. “What do you mean?”  
He shot her a wink. “You’ll see.”  
Confused, Ashlyn stared after her fiancé as he strode back down the hallway, a bounce in his step.

Over the next few days, various maids and guardsmen reported hearing strange noises coming from empty hallways and corners they passed. The most frequent sound that was apparently heard were giggles and gasps.  
The sounds stopped when the Warden-Commander took a sudden and brief trip to the Circle, and then picked back up when she returned.  
When the answer to the mysterious noises was clear, the rumors were abruptly cut short, and only secret smiles were passed among the servants when they were heard in the weeks leading up to the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neck nuzzles. :3  
> By the way, if you guys have any quick prompts for things you'd like to see me write in to this story, send me a PM, leave a review, whatever you want. :) I've still got ideas, I just think it would be fun to see what you guys hope to see in here!  
> Happy reading! :)


	10. Chapter 10

Ashlyn sat on the large sofa in she and Alistair’s sitting room, legs curled under her, and a book in her lap. She’d been lost in the story for hours, her mind far off in a different world, with different struggles.  
“Ashlyn?”  
The woman looked up, her eyes blinking slowly as she attempted to drag herself back into the real world.  
Finally she smiled at her husband. “Hello, dear.”  
Alistair stepped over to her and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Where’s Bryce?”  
Ashlyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought he was with you.”  
After a moment of horrified stillness, they both sprung into action, racing out of their rooms and into the hallways. Alistair was just about to call to a guard for help when they heard the scratching sound of paws skittering down the hallways. They both turned to see Camelot racing down the corridor, a four year old with a shock of red hair on his back, brandishing a wooden sword.  
“I will defeat you, darkspawn!” the little boy cried as they raced by.  
Both Ashlyn and Alistair watched in silence as the strange scene passed, until the mabari and his tiny rider had turned the corner. After another moment Ashlyn sagged against her husband.  
“You never should have given him that sword,” she said with a little chuckle.  
Alistair wrapped an arm around her. “You never should have given him our son.”

 

“Alistair?” Ashlyn stage-whispered into the nursery. The darkness was nearly complete, only dim embers still glowing faintly in the fireplace. It took a good few minutes for her eyes to adjust.  
When she could finally see, the red head smiled.  
Alistair was leaned back against the wall, a children’s book lying open and limp on one side of his lap. On the other side, Camelot’s head was resting, drool steadily dripping from his lightly snoring jaw. And resting against the dog’s side, head nestled in it’s fur, was she and Alistair’s son, face slack in sleep.  
With the small smile still gracing her face, the queen silently exited the room.

 

Ashlyn was sitting in front of a roaring fire, Camelot’s body resting on her toes to keep them warm, when her young son walked in with the most serious expression she had ever seen on his face.  
“Mommy?” he said, in a somber tone.  
“Yes, Bryce?” she asked, genuinely concerned. Camelot raised his head in sleepy curiosity.  
After frowning for another few moments, Bryce asked, “Does the Maker have feet?”  
Ashlyn was immensely glad she was sitting down, because her knees physically went weak from how cute the question was, and her poor son left many minutes later only more confused.

 

A sixteen year old Bryce Theirin stomped angrily into his rooms, his stormy expression eerily similar to the one his mother wore when she was particularly cross. Strange, considering he looked so much like his father.  
Alistair happened to be walking through the hallway when he saw his son tramping his way across it, and decided to investigate.  
“Bryce?” he asked as he walked in. The red-haired boy huffed and turned away. “What’s happened?”  
After a minute of angry silence, the boy finally responded snappishly. “Neala and I were taking a walk by the lake.”  
Neala was the daughter of Hawke and Fenris, born only a year after Fergus. The two had been friends for some time, and Alistair and his wife were fairly certain they would be married one day. Since Leliana had become Divine, elves, dwarves, and all crosses were more widely accepted.  
“What’s wrong with that?” Alistair asked, puzzled. His son had admitted to liking the girl not three days ago.  
“I…” Even turned away, the king could see Bryce’s ears were burning red. Much the way his own did when he was embarrassed. “I think she was going to kiss me.”  
Alistiar smiled, surprised, but pleased. “But..?”  
Bryce whirled, pointing angrily at Camelot. “He pushed her to the ground so she wouldn’t! She landed in the mud and left cursing at me!”  
Camelot sat smugly, head held up proudly, sure he had protected the young prince from the attentions of an unworthy girl.  
Bryce stormed out of his own rooms in an angrier fit when his father only doubled over in laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short I just wasn't feeling these guys that day. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway!
> 
> Happy reading! :)


	11. Chapter 11

Ashlyn wandered the halls of the palace restlessly, full of energy that she had no way to release at the moment. She and Alistair had received word from Wynne a week ago that she was coming to Denerim, and she was supposed to arrive today. Ashlyn had thought of her as almost a second mother during the Blight, and though she’d returned to the Circle, they wrote one another frequently, and were still quite close. The mage had visited a few times since the blight had ended, but it had been a while since the last time, and Ashlyn quite missed her. She missed all of the friends she had made during the Blight.  
 _Six years_ …she thought to herself. It sounded like such a long time ago, but the memories were still as fresh in her mind as if they had happened only yesterday. It was strange that she almost missed those times. It had been so sad at the end to have to watch all the people she’d come to love go and live their own lives…but understandably necessary.  
It wasn’t as if she never saw them. Leliana kept in touch when she could, but as she was now the left hand of the Divine, there were times when she had to remain unseen, even by the Queen of Ferelden. Perhaps _especially_ by the Queen of Ferelden.  
Zevran was still technically the leader of their spy network, though he wasn’t always around. The crows still hunted him at times, almost seeming to only chase him once in a while to remind him that he was a traitor. He fended off those who they sent and then they would forget about him for another few months, sometimes a year.  
Oghren and Felsi were happily married – well, as happy as someone married to Ogrhen could be. They’d had a bump in the road back when he’d become a Grey Warden, but Ashlyn had helped him smooth things over, and she was fairly certain they had three children now. He wasn’t as fond of writing letters as the others. In fact, he would randomly just show up at the palace when it pleased him to visit, and the staff would roll their eyes and tolerate he and his family for the next week or so. Begrudgingly.  
Ashlyn had been certain she would never hear from Sten again, but he surprisingly did write once in a great while, only seeming to care to do so if there was actual news to report. She felt a little bit like a captain receiving word from one of her soldiers, rather than a friend, but she was glad for the effort anyway.  
Shale had eventually decided to stay at the tower with Wynne, still searching for a way to regain her mortality, but now researching through the old tomes there and having research delivered to her when possible. She tended to visit with Wynne, and scoffed at the number of pigeons that Ashlyn had done nothing to stop from roosting among the battlements. The chirping always disappeared for a few weeks after they had come by.  
Morrigan…Ashlyn sighed. She had found the witch years ago, just before her wedding in fact, but had not seen her since. She’d gone through the Eluvian, to a place she could not follow, even if she had wanted to. She missed her most of all. She’d had such a different way of looking at the world than anyone she’d ever met, and it had been sort of refreshing to meet someone who was so blunt with their opinions. She didn’t speak in riddles, told you plainly what she wanted and how she intended to get it. Ashlyn couldn’t deny that a part of her still felt betrayed due to the ritual Morrigan had failed to tell her about, but in the end she was glad she had gone through with it. Even if it hurt to think of.  
Ashlyn thought to the pouch she had hidden in a drawer in she and Alistair’s quarters. A final gift from Morrigan. She wondered if she would ever be able to use it. A thought that had crossed her mind many times over the years.  
“Your majesty!”  
The Queen turned to see a messenger trotting after her, looking a bit breathless. He’d probably been trying to catch up to her restless pace; Ashlyn winced at the thought.  
“Yes?” she asked, excited. “Is she here?”  
“Yes, your highness, she arrived moments ago.”  
Ashlyn breathed a sigh of relief. “See that Alistair is told, we’ll be waiting for him in the – where did you leave her?”  
“She’s in the library messere, I’ll inform him to meet you there.”  
“Thank you,”Ashlyn said quickly, and immediately set off for the library.  
She was only halfway down the hallway however when a sudden bout of dizziness had her pressing her arm against the wall to keep her balance. She looked back to make sure the messenger had turned the corner, not wanting to needlessly worry anyone. She’d been having such spells for a few days now, and though they were surprising, they were nothing she couldn’t handle. She was fairly certain it was just because her appetite had been a bit odd lately. A frown crossed her face. She could admit it sounded like she was coming down with something, but at the very least she didn’t want to tell Alistair. He worried endlessly, especially when she was ill, and she didn’t want to cause him undue stress. Wynne was a healer however, and Ashlyn was sure she wouldn’t mind if she asked her about it.  
The dizziness having faded now, she stood back straight and rushed off to meet her guest.

 

Many minutes later, after cursing her own home and wondering why castles had to be so big anyway, Ashlyn paused in front of the door and smoothed down her curls, trying to look as though she hadn’t just rushed down here in a flurry. She quickly asked for a passing servant to see that they were brought tea before entering.  
Wynne looked up from a book she had been leafing through, standing in front of one of the nearer bookcases. She smiled upon seeing the Queen and immediately returned the book to its spot. Ashlyn stepped forward and gave the woman a warm hug.  
“It’s so good to see you Wynne, it’s been far too long.”  
“I apologize for not visiting sooner,” the mage said as she pulled away. “There were some unforeseen circumstances that I had to see to.”  
“What do you mean?” Ashlyn asked curiously, leading the woman to a table set up near a large window, plush armchairs sitting around it.  
“Circumstances that mean it will be quite difficult to crush your pigeon infestation from now on.”  
Ashlyn jumped at the voice which was coming from somewhere near the height of her hips, and looked down to see a female dwarf staring at her, arms crossed and frown painted on her face. She seemed annoyed to only just have been noticed.  
The queen took a moment to connect the voice to the dwarf, and another moment to take in the _meaning_ of the words before squawking “ _Shale?!_ ”  
“Obviously,” the dwarf said with a sniff. She had coppery short hair pulled into a tight knot at the back of her neck, and freckles dotted her face and neck. Ashlyn wasn’t sure what she’d assumed Shale would look like as a mortal, but this was not it.  
“I – you – _how?_ ” she sputtered.  
“Sit down,” Wynne chuckled, gesturing to a chair across from the one she had sat in. “It’s a long story.” She then glanced to the dwarven woman. “You too, Shale, the chairs are quite comfortable.”  
“I have no need of comfortable chairs.”*  
“Shale, you’re no longer made of stone. Your feet will tire.”  
Heaving a great sigh, the woman obligingly seated herself, though she looked very much like a petulant child doing so. The effect was only heightened by the fact that her feet did not touch the ground.  
Quenching the urge to laugh, Ashlyn sat back as Wynne told her of how they’d been looking through what was known of ancient elven rituals, combined with how golems were created, and even looking in to the details of how blood magic worked, though Wynne quickly assured her none had been used. At some point the tea Ashlyn had asked for was brought, though she hardly noticed. She kept glancing to Shale looking for similarities to the golem she had known, and was surprised – though she knew she shouldn’t have been – to find many. She sat as unnaturally still as she had stood as a golem, likely a habit now. She still seemed fascinated by jewels, and though Ashlyn only wore a few, she did comment on them. She even winced when birds flew by the window, and Ashlyn had to continually keep from laughing.  
Wynne had just finished telling the tale when Alistair finally strode into the room. “I’m sorry I took so long, you wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork I have to -” he paused as he saw the dwarven woman sitting with his wife and Wynne. “Who is this?” he asked, absentmindedly kissing his wife’s cheek as she rose to greet him.  
Shale eyed Alistiar up and down and looked mildly intimidated. “You’re much taller than I remember.”  
Wynne chuckled. “She’s still a bit worried about being squished.”  
“For good reason,” Shale grumbled. “Of all species I could have been it had to be a _dwarf._ ”  
Alistiar was glancing between the three of them, a thoroughly puzzled expression on his face. “Who…?”  
Smiling herself now, Ashlyn gestured to the dwarven woman. “Darling, you do remember Shale, don’t you?”  
There was a long moment of silence that was finally broken by Alistair.  
“ _What?!_ ”

 

One repeat of a very long story later, the four of them were sitting around the table waiting on a fresh pot of tea.  
“I still can’t believe it,” Alistair said, leaning back in his chair.  
Shale snorted. “Fat lot of good your eyes are then.”  
“It is truly astounding, Shale, even you must admit that,” Wynne interjected.  
Ashlyn was not listening to the conversation as she had been struck by another bout of dizziness. Glad to be sitting down she gripped the arm of the chair, trying not to sway. She’d been wondering during Wynne’s retelling of the story how she was supposed to ask the woman to check her over with Alistair now here. She’d been too caught up in the surprise of Shale’s miraculous change to remember.  
“I do think that – Ashlyn? Are you alright?” Wynne was saying, having glanced to her.  
Grimacing that she now had all eyes on her, she tried to make her voice sound normal. “I’m…fine. Just fine.”  
Concerned, Alistair leaned over and touched her shoulder in a comforting manner. “You do look awfully pale dear. Have you eaten?”  
“Ah…well, yes…” she neglected to tell him she’d been sick that morning.  
“Why don’t you let me take a look at you,” Wynne said, rising from her chair.  
Ashlyn glanced to Alistair whose worry was now in full swing and showing clearly on his face. She sighed, knowing there was no way out of it now. “I suppose,” she replied resignedly.  
“Come, let’s go to your quarters. I hope you don’t mind spending some time with Alistair, Shale?” Wynne said as Ashlyn stood.  
“If I must,” the dwarf replied. Alistair looked a little uncomfortable at the prospect but did not protest.  
“Come along, child,” Wynne continued, ushering the queen out of the room.

 

“Now,” Wynne was saying when they were in the corridors and safely out of earshot. “How long has this been going on?” At Ashlyn’s surprised glance, Wynne laughed softly. “I know you quite well by now, my dear. How long?”  
Ashlyn sighed. “A few days.”  
“I see. What exactly has been happening?”  
She told the mage of the dizziness, the strange changes in appetite, and with a grimace, her sickness from that morning.  
Wynne was nodding when they finally made it to Ashlyn and Alistair’s sitting room. “I am sorry you haven’t been feeling well. However, you should have seen a healer before now.”  
Ashlyn shrugged, looking away. This felt distinctly similar to being chastised by her mother. “I didn’t want to worry Alistair. It didn’t seem like such a problem at first.”  
Wynne tutted at her, but let it go, ushering her to a chair. “Relax, and let me check you over.”  
Ashlyn obligingly sat down and watched as the mage’s hands glowed blue, and began hovering around her. She checked her head first, but moved on quickly, apparently finding nothing. The queen was somewhat surprised when Wynne’s hand moved on to her stomach immediately, but said nothing. After a couple minutes of the woman muttering and “hmming” to herself, Wynne pulled away, the magic fading from her hands.  
“Well?” Ashlyn asked, trying not to fidget under the woman’s gaze.  
“Tell me, when was your last menses?”  
Ashlyn blushed delicately and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Well, to be honest, after becoming a Grey Warden it’s been sort of…sporadic.” Wynne nodded, understanding. “I suppose it has been a little while though. Why?”  
Wynne smiled. “Because I believe you’re pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So over on FF I mentioned that if I got fifty reviews I would either  
> a) Write a one-shot for the 50th reviewer (so long as it’s DA related)  
> b) Write a smutty oneshot of Ashlyn and Alistair *waggles eyebrows*  
> I'll count the comments I get on here as well. Just got over 30 reviews, so only 20 to go!
> 
> You guys tell me what you would prefer! :D I love each and every one you to little bits!!!
> 
> Happy reading! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So who wants to kill me for not showing the birth already? :P  
> Love all of you guys!  
> Happy reading! :)

Ashlyn was still sitting in her armchair where Wynne had left her not long ago. On the other hand, it could have been quite some time, she was too lost in her thoughts to be sure.

Pregnant? She'd been so certain that she'd never be able to conceive. It wasn't as if she and Alistair didn't try, but it had been six years. And with the taint in her blood, what were the chances of the baby even surviving?

Of course…the pouch. Ashlyn rose from her seat and walked over to her nightstand and opened the top drawer, emptied its contents, and removed the fake bottom, revealing the space beneath. Just large enough to hold a leather pouch with string meant to act as a necklace. She pulled it out and blew off the layer of dust, and gently fingered the material.

Morrigan had given this to her just before disappearing through the Eluvian, telling her to call it a wedding gift. She'd told her that while it was improbable, conceiving a child between two Wardens was possible. But as Ashlyn had thought, the taint would kill the babe before it could be born. She'd wanted her best friend, the only woman she considered a sister, to have a chance at a family once more.

_Put in your drink, in food, it matters not. So long as the moment you discover you are with child, you ingest the herbs. They are the only thing that will protect the babe._

She refused to tell Ashlyn what exactly the herbs were, and that was why the queen hesitated now. Should she trust her old friend? The betrayal at the end still hurt, but besides that, never once had Morrigan misled her. What if this had something to do with Morrigan's own child? Was this all part of a larger plan?

On the other hand…Ashlyn lay a hand on her stomach. The child would certainly die if she didn't do something. No one could live through the taint for long. As it was, she and Alistair were on borrowed time. Morrigan's child had required the ritual to live. Ashlyn's baby needed help. For all she knew it could have already been harmed by the taint in her blood.

Ashlyn bit her lip and glanced at the leftover glass of water on her nightstand from the night before. Then with a firm nod of her head – if shaking fingers – she dumped the contents of the pouch into the glass and downed it in one gulp.

Leaving the room after calming her nerves, Ashlyn ran face first into her husband's chest.

"Oh! There you are," Alistair said, taking her by the shoulders and gently moving her back. "You were gone a while."

"Ah, I uh…sorry," Ashlyn replied, then cleared her throat. "Where is Wynne?"

"She and Shale each left for their quarters to rest. Since it had been so long I decided to come check on you…Are you alright?" Concerned now, he cupped her cheek.

Ashlyn smiled and reached up to hold the hand against her face. "I have news."

Alistair gave a chuckle. "Good news I hope. I've had enough surprises for today."

"Very good news," She took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

Alistair froze for a few moments. "I…really? Are you sure?"

Ashlyn beamed and nodded. "Wynne told me, she's certain. I'm a few weeks along. That's why I've been feeling so off lately and – oh!" She was cut off when Alistair enveloped her in a sudden hug, then laughed when he picked her up and swung her around.

"I can't believe it!" He exclaimed – in between kisses he was currently raining on her face. He suddenly pulled back, looking worried. "Wait but – is it safe? The baby? Won't the taint hurt it?"

Ashlyn's mind spun for a few moments. He wouldn't be happy to know she had used herbs that Morrigan had given her. He had never trusted her; that was the whole reason Ashlyn had neglected to tell him about it all these years.

"I…Wynne believes she can keep the taint from affecting the child. The very fact that it conceived at all means it's very strong." That much at least was true. "We'll have to be careful of course, and keep a healer around -"

"We're keeping Wynne around," Alistair said sternly. "We need to someone around who knows you as well as she does, and has her experience."

Ashlyn smiled. "If she wants to, certainly. I'm not sure how Shale will feel about it though. I have no idea what her plans are now that she's regained her mortality."

"Actually," Alistair cut in, "She mentioned an interest in joining the Royal Guard. So she might be sticking around after all."

"That's fantastic!" Ashlyn exclaimed. They both smiled into the silence for a moment before Ashlyn leaned forward to hug him. He returned the embrace warmly.

"I can't believe we're going to have a baby," he said into her hair.

"Neither can I," she replied softly. "I wonder if it's a boy or a girl."

"I wonder if it will have your hair," Alistair said with a small laugh. She chuckled as well. Her bright red hair was impossible to miss.

After another couple of moments Ashlyn pulled back. "I suppose we'll have to start preparing. Set up a nursery, tell our friends…"

"Ugh," Alistair's face grew worried. "Now that you mention it…Maker, we have so much to do."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "We have people and friends to help us though. We'll make it through." She then beamed up at him again. "We're going to have a family."

He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. "A family."

Nine months later, as they were on their way to the inn in Kirkwall they were staying at, Ashlyn had just worked her way through another contraction. She released her death grip on Alistair's hand as the pain around her spine faded.

"Okay," she said after catching her breath. "Let's keep going. They're coming faster."

Alistair guided her with a hand at her back, concern etched into his features. That fled when Ashlyn suddenly gave a breathless laugh. "What's so funny?"

"We called all our friends back to the palace so early so we'd be sure they would be there for the birth. Looks like that was pointless."

Alistair snorted. "Well. You're the one who wanted to come, my dear."

She gave him a mock glare. "Well, at least when we return they'll get to immediately meet the new princess."

"Oh, so it's a girl again?"

She elbowed him. "For now."

He chuckled. "For now," he agreed, then continued to hurry her along to the inn.


	13. Chapter 13

Ashlyn slowly rose from the Fade, her mind still foggy with sleep. She considered slipping back under, but something was niggling in the back of her head. Something was wrong.  
Her eyes suddenly snapped open at the thought, but long trained instincts told her not to move, and to assess the situation first. Her surroundings weren’t the ones she was used to. For the past few months she had been sleeping in guest room in the palace. A lovely guest room, but the point was this wasn’t –  
 _Ah._  
Her brain finally caught up and her muscles relaxed. This was Alistair’s – _their_ ¬ – room. The wedding was last night. In her alarm, it had taken longer than usual for her memories to resurface.  
Turning as quietly as possible onto her side, Ashlyn smiled as she saw her husband’s sleeping face. Already facing her, his arm instinctively wrapped around her. After listening to the soothing sound of his breath for a few more moments, Ashlyn silently raised her left hand to gaze at her finger.  
Resting next to the engagement ring was now a simple silver band, matched by the one Alistair wore, hidden in the sheets at the moment. The thought made her grin. She was his wife.  
It was so strange. To think, a year ago, she and Alistair barely knew one another. They were in the middle of a war, desperately trying to save their world from destruction, sleeping on the road, more often than not going hungry…Now the lived in a lavish palace, and he was king. And she was his queen.  
Well, technical she was the princess-consort. She would be crowned the official queen after a year.*  
The point stood however. Things were so _different_ now.  
She let her arm drop back to her side. Married. A wife. A husband. It still didn’t seem real.  
She glanced over when Alistair stirred, rolling onto his stomach, but leaving his arm thrown across her. Ashlyn couldn’t help but smile again. She had to admit, it was very nice to be able to sleep beside him again. She’d missed being wrapped in his arms. It was such a safe and warm feeling. Of course, sleeping beside her lover had other benefits as well…  
She blushed as later memories of the previous night came to her as well. She’d certainly missed _that_ as well. While they’d managed to find a few moments alone since the engagement, they had been few and far in between, and not once had they had enough time to actually make love.  
But it was the cuddling she missed most, without a doubt. With that thought, she turned onto her side once more, so that her back was turned to her husband – a thrill ran through her at the word – and let herself fall back into a peaceful sleep.

 

She woke slowly again an hour later, this time to the feeling of lips being pressed to her neck. She stretched slowly, sighing pleasantly at the sensation.  
“Good morning my beautiful wife,” Alistair whispered into her ear as his hands began to wander.  
Ashlyn grinned and turned onto her back, opening her arms wide to embrace him.  
Maybe she’d missed this part most after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I actually have _no_ idea how this works, made it up on the fly.  
>  Comments are greatly appreciated! I love all of you guys! *great big hugs*  
> Happy reading! :)


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